When I step out of the bathroom after showering, Kane and the glass container are both gone. Frowning, I walk through the apartment to the living room. He’s sitting on one of the armchairs, his ankle resting on his knee, reading the little diary I fetched from the tower earlier. The small book looks like a miniature toy in his big hands.
I don’t know where he showered, but his wet hair hangs across his forehead, and he looks delicious in a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater that accentuates his azure eyes. He lifts his eyes to look at me, a grim smile playing around his full lips. He is really not happy right now. “I’m trying my very best not to lose my temper,” he says.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but one look from him shuts me right back up. He clears his throat, his eyes falling on the diary. “He scares me. The intensity of his love overwhelms him at times, and he cannot control his wolf,” he reads. “I asked sister Agatha about it, seeing as sh
